October Surprise

Yesterday I took my phone out with me when I did my morning chores. I was able to get a video of Harvey, our feral cat. Here is Harvey’s story:

Last November EJ and I got to talking to a couple of other customers in our favorite thrift store–a man and his wife. They told us they had feral cats hanging around their house and they wished they could find homes for them. We told them we’d take one, so they live trapped one of them and brought him out to us. We kept him in safely in the garage wihle we worked to befriend him. For the first two months, we saw only a couple of brief glimpses of him–actually, more like brief blurs of movement that I wasn’t sure I saw. After trying out several names, we decided to name our cat after the old movie in which Jimmy Stewart made friends with Harvey, a six-foot invisible rabbit. People, of course, didn’t see the rabbit–it being invisible and all–and they thought he was crazy. It was a cute movie. Since we never saw the cat we supposedly had, we thought Harvey was an appropriate name.

It took me more months to slowly earn Harvey’s trust. Over the weeks, he came closer and closer until finally I was able to touch–and then pet–him. Now he walks beside me, and then stops in front of me and sits down, which is his way of telling me he wants lovings. I can only walk a few steps at a time before he sits. He can’t get enough lovings. He’s so cute. I adore Harvey.

I let Harvey–and Theo, our other outside cat–outside in the mornings. They roam our property. Our neighbors, who share our driveway, recently told us that sometimes the cats come onto their property and they love watching them play together. At night, I shut the cats back in the garage to keep them safe from nighttime predators, such as coyotes. It’s no problem getting Theo in the garage–he’s very cuddly and lets us pick him up but Harvey still hasn’t let me pick him up. I don’t push it. Most of the time Harvey comes up and lays in front of the garage when he’s ready to go into the garage. When I see him, I go into the garage and call him in. I worry whenever he’s late, but he always comes up to the garage eventually.

After I videoed Harvey yesterday, I walked over to the coop to let the chickens out. They always come running/flying out like little kids running out of school at the end of the school year. It’s very difficult getting photos or videos of the chickens because they move around so much, but I finally realized that I could get a video when I was feeding them. At the link below, you can see most of them, including the infamous Richard VI. You can also see Philip VII keeping Malcolm VIII away from the hens.

My Flock

I had sort of an October surprise when I went out to the coop later yesterday afternoon to get eggs: When I walked into the coop I heard peep-peep-peeping from one of the nesting boxes. I looked inside the box and discovered several tiny little chicks! I suppose I shouldn’t have been surprised because I sort of suspected a hen might be broody. I really should take eggs out of the nests every day, and mostly I do, but by the time I realize that a hen might be broody–and not just laying eggs in the boxes–they are mean. Broody hens are like women with PMS. I swear their eyes get red with anger when I try to reach under them for their eggs. They fluff up to twice their normal size. Sometimes they growl. And then they strike like a cobra with their fierce beaks. Ouch! To be honest, they kind of scare me. So–cowardly me–when I sort of suspect a hen might be broody, I back slowly away and leave her alone. This is why we’ve had so many chicks this year.

We were always told that the Rhode Island and New Hampshire Reds often went broody, but we only had one go broody once in all the years we’ve had chickens. Last year we bought Partridge Chanticleurs and they go broody ALL THE TIME. And often there is more than one hen in the same nesting box at the same time.

When I discovered the chicks, I ran into the house and called for EJ to come out to the coop. I didn’t tell him why because I wanted to surprise him. He was relieved that there wasn’t a possum in the coop like there was last year. I guess I should have told him that there was nothing wrong in the coop, but I didn’t think of it.

Our chickens’ favorite nesting boxes are kitty litter boxes. The problem is that when they have chicks, the chicks can’t access food and water in the boxes–and they can’t get back into the nesting boxes if they get out. So I always transfer them to the bottom of the fancy store-bought coop (which is inside the 10×12 shed that is their “coop”). I keep Mama and chicks shut in until the chicks are big enough to leave. This means that I also have to transfer unhatched eggs as well.

I transferred the two hens, the chicks, and the eggs to the enclosed “nursery.” Mama wasn’t happy with me and kept pecking at me angrily. Ouch! As I said, broody hens are mean. It’s good they are protective of their eggs and chicks, but still….!

When I transfered the chicks yesterday, I counted six. This morning there were eight. That’s a total of 16 chicks that have hatched this year–six in the spring, two in the summer, and now eight in the autumn. If they all live (I so hope they do!)–and assuming no more hatch–we will have a flock of 35 chickens. When we bought our first chicks ten years ago, we only planned to have four. Now we have 35!!! It’s really an over-abundance.

Despite the fact that we really don’t need any more chickens, the chicks are such cute tiny little balls of fluff that my heart melts when I see them. They are about the size of a ping pong ball–or maybe even smaller. I am always sad when one doesn’t make it. I’m worried a bit that these chicks hatched so late in the year when winter is approaching. I don’t want them to get too cold. But the two Mamas will take care of them. When I went out tonight to shut the chickens in the coop, I checked in on the family. The chicks were all hidden safely under their Mamas.

Since October is my birthday, I suppose I could call the chicks my surprise birthday gift. Right?